


Thrown Together

by shortbreadholmes



Series: Les Amis Canadiens [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canadian AU, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Halloween, M/M, Multi, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Other, Pre-Slash, probably too much angst for a halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4444235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortbreadholmes/pseuds/shortbreadholmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac is throwing a costume party. Enjolras doesn't <i>do</i> costume parties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrown Together

It had all been Courfeyrac's fault, the bastard. Who still has costumed Halloween parties in their mid-twenties? Usually Enjolras would have vetoed the whole ordeal but after Combeferre had said something about never having been to one as a boy, his voice soft and slightly sad in just the right way, Courfeyrac had made it his personal mission to ensure that his best friend got the Halloween party of the century. A noble cause, except that Enjolras had been cajoled and coerced into attending the party. Enjolras didn't do costumes. 

"I'm not dressing up." Enjolras told Courfeyrac on the phone, checking his hair in the mirror by the door to his flat. 

"NOO! Everybody is dressing up E, you have to dress up!" Courfeyrac whined back. Enjolras frowned. 

"No, I don't actually. I'm coming because you're all my friends and I want to spend time with you, not because I like getting wasted in a Tinkerbell costume."

"I really- wait Tinkerbell? Is that something you've dressed up as before?" Courfeyrac asked, a poorly disguised grin in his voice. Enjolras winced and gave a non-committal grunt. 

"Well anyways, you're right, you don't have to dress up. But it would mean a lot to me, _and Combeferre_ if you did." Courfeyrac said. Enjolras knew he was being manipulated, but he also knew that it was mostly true. And that it was working. 

"Ugh, fine. But I don't have anything to wear and, therefore my costume will be awful." Enjolras said, only a little haughty. Courfeyrac laughed gleefully.

"You've got literally tons of clothes. You can figure something out, I'm sure of it." He said firmly. Enjolras grumbled in reply.

"C'mon cheer up. Everyone's coming!" Courfeyrac said, the laughter back in his voice. 

" _Everyone_ , everyone?" Enjolras asked, trying to keep his voice calm. Courfeyrac laughed again.

"Yes Enjolras, your _artiste d'amour_ will be in attendance."

Enjorlas could feel himself blushing and he was feircely glad that he was talking to Courf on the phone. "I-that's not- he's not my- your French is terrible Courfeyrac," he sputtered.

"Mmhmm. Well, I'll see you tonight... _Apollo_ " Courfeyrac crooned, and hung up with a soft click. 

Enjolras pulled his cell phone away from his ear and groaned. He slowly lowered himself to the ground and continued to groan into the hardwood. Despite his steely outward appearance, Enjolras was capable of mind-blowing levels of histrionics. Eventually though, grumbling face-down in his hallway became uncomfortable so he dragged himself to his feet and went to put together a costume. 

"This is ridiculous," Enjolras muttered, eyeing his creation in the mirror. He was wearing black pants, and a white button up shirt, both carefully pressed. He had found a long, draping, black cloak-type jacket that Enjolras was pretty sure was actually Jehan's. He had pulled a silver and green striped tie out of his collection, fashioned a Hogwarts crest badge out of cardboard and construction paper, dug out his old prefects badge and his satchel-style book bag. For the final touch, he straightened his curls and styled them with gel, and pulled the magic wand he had made as a kid out of the box in his storage closet marked 'memories'. The final effect was quite striking, and Enjolras felt completely absurd. 

After hitting the liquor store to pick up beers, and frowning at the definitely _not_ nineteen year old girl buying coolers who said "I loooove Harry Potter." in a silky voice, Enjolras walked to Courfeyrac's house. He stopped short in the driveway, unable to fully process what was in front of him. Courfeyrac's miniscule front lawn was full to the brim of garish Halloween decorations. There were small styrofoam tombstones with names like _Thor Buttockth_ and _Oswald That-Endswald_ , plastic skeletons in a wide variety of funny hats, bats hanging everywhere, cotton cobwebs strung from every available surface, six different coffins, and what must have been two dozen jack-o-lanterns. Enjolras could see both Courfeyrac's and Jehan's handiwork in the style of the many pumpkins. Smiling in spite of himself, Enjolras manoeuvred around a loudly wailing ghost figure, and knocked on the door. 

It was Courfeyrac who answered, a flood of music and party noises coming with him. He was dressed as a sexy pirate. He always dressed as a sexy pirate. The fact that he got to talk like Johnny Depp and already had both a parrot, and a prosthetic leg meant that there was very little variation in Courfeyrac's costumes. 

"Hey, I-are you Draco Malfoy?" He asked, a strange glee passing over his face. 

"Yes." Enjolras replied. Courfeyrac let out a dark chuckle. "What?" Enjolras asked, smoothing his hair out anxiously. 

"Nothing." Courfeyrac said quickly, turning to let Enjolras pass him, but Enjolras swore he heard him mutter _spectacular_ under his breath. 

Courfeyrac's house was not tiny, but it was jam-packed with people at the moment. It was easily the biggest party Enjolras had attended since college, but then, Courfeyrac did throw incredible parties. Courfeyrac had said all of the Amis were there, and he could see Montparnasse lurking in a corner. Gavroche and Azelma were there, as well as Bahorel's sister Vivienne and his niece Ann who was following Gavroche around like a shadow. Musichetta's whole band was there, as well as all of the various staff from the Musain, some of Marius' language students, and several of the young people who regularly came to their protests but weren't _officially_ Amis. 

Enjolras dropped his beers off at the drinks table and took one for himself. The furniture in the living room had been moved to the edges of the room to create a makeshift dance floor, and Enjolras started edging his way through the throng, his eyes set on a free couch cushion on the other side of the room. He only made it about three feet before he heard someone calling his name. 

"Enjolras!" It was Combeferre, dressed in a moth costume that looked homemade and exquisitely detailed. They hugged, and Combeferre grinned in a wide, care-free way that people didn't usually associate with the med-student. "You made it! I'm so glad. And you're Draco Malfoy!" 

The joy in Combeferre's voice was enough to erase any ill-feelings Enjolras had had about the costume party. 

"What kind of moth are you?" Enjolras asked, smiling easily at his best friend. Combeferre hummed happily and held out his arm to show off the hand-made wing sleeves. 

" _Thysania Agrippina_ , or the White Witch Moth. They're one of my favourites." Combeferre admits, and then smirks slightly. "Have you seen Grantaire yet?"

Enjolras frowned slightly, "No I just got here, why?"

"Oh nothing, he's just got a costume...you might like is all." Combeferre shrugged. Then he squeezed Enjolras' arm and walked off to find somebody else to show his wings to. Enjolras watched him walk away for a moment, and then continued across the floor towards the couch. He saw Bahorel and Feuilly on the way over as well, who were dressed as Leia and Han Solo respectively. 

"I like your buns!" Enjolras said to Bahorel, shout slightly over the music. Bahorel, never one to miss a double entendre, winked lavishly and blew a kiss in Enjolras' direction while Feuilly looked fondly on. 

"Thanks stud, I like your _magic_ wand!" he replied, voice dripping with innuendo, and Enjolras nearly inhaled half his beer in shock. He continued on his couch-bound journey, half laughing- half choking while Bahorel's booming laughter carried through the room. 

Jehan was the next to find him, dragging Montparnasse in their wake. Jehan's long ginger hair was woven with flowers and they were wearing a floor length chiffon robe that had been stained with multicoloured dye. Montparnasse was wearing his cursory skinny jeans and designer t-shirt, but instead of black they were deep brown, and he had added a bearskin-style vest to the ensemble. They were both holding tall and ornate wooden staffs, each with a large quartz set into the head. 

"Wait, let me guess." Enjolras said, and Jehan's mysterious grin lit up their face. "....Titania and Oberon?" Jehan let out a gleeful whoop and shoved Montparnasse's shoulder, who cracked a reluctant smile. 

"See? I knew somebody would get it! 'Parnasse thought nobody would get it, but I knew somebody would!" Jehan cried, and Montparnasse's smirk grew into a full smile, and he rolled his eyes at Enjolras. 

"Well yeah, I mean the staffs, the flowers, the ethereal and slightly intimidating beauty; who else could you be?" Enjolras teased, and Jehan blushed slightly. 

"And you're...OH. Have you seen Grantaire yet?" Jehan gasped, their small body suddenly trembling with excitement. 

"No, why do people keep asking that?" Enjolras asked, suddenly grouchy. Jehan glanced at Montparnasse, who smirked, and then looked back at Enjolras. "You should go find him. I think you'll like his costume." Then they flounced off across the room, Montparnasse close on their heels. Enjolras growled slightly to himself and stalked off towards the bathroom, suddenly not interested in sitting on the couch. Unfortunately, the bathroom was occupied and a line-up consisting of Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were sprawled across the floor. 

"Hey guys." Enjolras said, and they looked up, all immediately splitting into Cheshire-wide grins. "Well that's not unsettling at all," he muttered, leaning against the wall opposite the trio. 

"This is perfect." Bossuet said, and then Musichetta elbowed him in the ribs, muttering something to him in Spanish, which made Joly giggle. 

"Y'know sometimes I think you guys are too close." Enjolras teased, and Musichetta rewarded him with a wink. Despite being the most relationship-y of the romantic relationships in their group, these three seemed to be the only ones not dressed in matching costumes. Joly was wearing what appeared to be a children's bumblebee costume, Musichetta was Leeloo from 5th Element, and Bossuet was wearing plastic horns and had bits of plastic tableware painted white and glued to his clothes. "I'm sorry L'aigle but what are you supposed to be?"

"I'm the bull from the china shop." Bossuet grinned, tugging a tail out from underneath him and giving it a lazy wave. "It seemed pretty fitting." Enjolras laughed, lifting his glass to his friend before draining the bottle. Pushing himself off the wall and turning down the hallway, Enjolras started to excuse himself.

"Well, I'm I need a new drink and honestly, I don't need to go that bad so I'll see-"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Grantaire's voice cut across Enjolras' and silence fell across the small group outside the bathroom. Evidently it had been Grantaire inside. Enjolras turned to look at him and felt his stomach do an odd flip flop when he saw his costume. His hair was styled to be messier than usual, and he was dressed in all black except for a gold and red tie loosely knotted around his neck. He was wearing Combeferre's glasses, the round ones with the wiry frames, and had a carefully drawn bolt of lightning on his forehead. It was a very good Harry Potter costume. 

"You're Drarry!" Joly burst out, giggling madly. The other two on the floor immediately followed suit, collapsing into a laughing pile. Grantaire didn't look away from Enjolras, but his cheeks flushed. Then he let out a huff, turned on his heel and stormed into the back garden. The giggling on the floor subsided slightly. 

"Well...that didn't go as well as I thought it would." Musichetta said dryly, taking a long swig of her wine. Enjolras tried to glare at her, but his heart wasn't really in it. He was still trying to figure out what had just happened. 

"Should I...?" He started, gesturing vaguely towards the back door. His friends on the floor nodded in unison. Enjolras took a steadying breath and followed Grantaire out into the garden. 

Enjolras didn't see him right away, leaning against the far fence, looking up at the night sky. Smoke was curling up gently from the cigarette in his hand, and out from his soft mouth and Enjolras felt his stomach do another flip. He walked over and leant against the fence next to him, quiet for a moment. 

"This is a pretty funny coincidence isn't it?" Enjolras said, voice light. Grantaire glanced at him and then let out a huff that may have been a laugh if his eyes weren't so sad. Enjolras watched him for a long moment. "Penny for your thoughts?" He asked eventually. After Grantaire was silent for another second, Enjolras held out his hand for the cigarette. Enjolras didn't smoke generally, but he could understand the catharsis it created for Grantaire, and often time when they had moments like this, they split one. Grantaire smiled at Enjolras hand and passed over the cigarette. He watched Enjolras' mouth as he took a drag, but it didn't make Enjolras feel uncomfortable, just the opposite actually. 

There was another long moment, gentler than the last. 

"It's just funny to me- and by funny I mean-" Grantaire cringed, "That even when I'm doing something individually, and I have no idea where you are or what you're doing...it all comes back to you." Enjolras felt like his heart was stopping. He took another drag. "I mean it's not like I hate it necessarily. I just- it breaks my heart sometimes because it's not the same for you." Grantaire smiled at Enjolras, their eyes holding each other like a standoff. Enjolras felt frozen, Grantaire had never been this honest with him before, at least, not without shouting. Something felt twisted inside Enjolras and he had to take a deep breath. Grantaire reached over and gently pulled the cigarette out of Enjolras' fingers. He pulled a drag from it, his lips over the spot where Enjolras' had just been. It occurred to Enjolras that it was sort of like kissing. He watched Grantaire's hands, scarred and calloused but so gentle. Enjolras thought about how Grantaire grew and dried and rolled his own tobacco, and how his fingers sometimes smelled like tobacco, and sometimes smelled like paint, but mostly just smelled like _Grantaire_. Enjolras thought about how that made his heart feel like it was being squeezed too tightly, and then suddenly he thought the silence would kill him. 

"How do you know?" Enjolras managed to choke out, still watching the cigarette in Grantaire's hand. Grantaire looked at Enjolras, startled.

"What?" he asked, crushing the butt of the cigarette on the fence and shoving it into his pocket. Enjolras mourned it's loss. 

"How do you know it's not the same for me?" Enjolras asked, desperate for an answer. Grantaire smiled again, but it was sad and small. 

"Trust me Apollo, the gods never truly loves a human." He said, patted Enjolras' shoulder once and turned to walk back inside the house. 

Enjolras stood in the garden for a long time thinking about what Grantaire said, trying to decide whether it made him more indignant or horribly sad. Eventually he returned to the party, and was not surprised to hear that Grantaire had left early. 

"Well what are you going to do about that?" Courfeyrac asked Enjolras later, when he had explained his conversation with Grantaire. 

"What do you mean? What can I do?" Enjolras asked. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes.

"Well, if you can't figure it out, I'm not telling you. At least- not yet." He said, patting Enjolras on the head.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first in (hopefully) a bunch of short stories from my Modern AU Amis verse. This may end up being sort of in the middle chronologically, but we will see where things go.


End file.
